Cleaning House
by Ms. Cecily Cardew
Summary: Her entire left forearm is, quite simply, ridiculously neon pink. Olivia's decision to clean house has unexpected results. A one shot fic, with a bit of EO thrown in for good measure. RR


_A/N: A big thanks to everyone who read and reviewed my last fic "Fine." It means so much to me that you enjoyed my work. As I've said before, reviews are my addiction. I love'em! Also, a huge thanks to my Beta Lindsay. I am quite a slow writer and she is so very patient with me. You rock name twin! _

_Now, the idea for this particular story came to me randomly one day and I just couldn't pass it up! I'm really excited to hear what you think of it, so PLEASE review it! Constructive criticism is welcome too. ENJOY! J_

_Disclaimer: The characters are not mine. Not even a little bit._

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She shudders in her sleep, unable to shake the feeling that a spider is slowly crawling down her back. Her hand unconsciously flies to the spot in the middle of her spine to assure her drowsy brain that there isn't a spider on her back, and that her body is merely playing tricks on her. When her hand comes into contact with the soaking skin under her tee shirt, she bolts upright. Suddenly she's aware of how unbearably hot it is. She's drenched in sweat and her sheets and pajamas stick to her body uncomfortably. The sun is shining through her curtains, mocking her as it lights her bedroom. She gets out of bed and glances out the window. She can see the heat rising from the black asphalt of the street below.

_Heat waves suck. It's only…_

Still not entirely lucid, Olivia glances at the clock on her nightstand.

…_8:04 in the morning and it must be nearing 100 degrees out._

Olivia stares back at the busy street for a moment longer, before her head snaps back to the alarm clock.

_Shit!_

She's late for work. Groaning, she walks to her bathroom, wanting nothing more than to take an ice cold shower and start the day over. Covering a yawn with her right hand, she reaches to open the door with her left, but finds her left arm unwilling to cooperate. It seems to take an enormous amount of effort to lift it. She looks down to glare at the limb, as if that would somehow force it into submission, but all she can see when her eyes shift down is the neon pink cast weighing down her forearm.

Memories of the previous night come flooding to her conscious.

----------------

"Hey baby, your hair's alright. Hey baby, stay out tonight."

In the confines of her own apartment where nobody could hear her off-key rendition of "Rebel Rebel," Olivia sang loudly with the music of her stereo. She finished washing the last of the dishes in her sink and dried it before wandering out of her kitchen.

"You like me and you like it all. You love dancing and you look divine."

Casey was supposed to be there in about 15 minutes or so, with Chinese food and a selection of movies, and Olivia had decided to do a bit of cleaning before she arrived to make her apartment a bit more presentable. Olivia looked forward to these movie nights with her friend. It was nice to have girl time, especially for two women who worked alongside men all day. To adios Detective Benson and ADA Novak, and just be Olivia and Casey for a night was a pleasant change.

She smiled to herself and pulled the vacuum out from the coat closet. Her apartment needed vacuuming, big time.

"Rebel, rebel, you've torn your dress. Rebel, rebel, your face is a mess."

Olivia continued to hum the song to herself as she turned on the vacuum and worked her way around her apartment. In her own little world, she mindlessly navigated around furniture, vaguely noting the sound of crumbs and dirt getting sucked up into the vacuum bag. She moved to get the space between her couch and the coffee table, but her right foot caught on the electrical cord, pulling it from the socket, and she found herself falling forward. Automatically, she stuck her arms out to break her fall. She landed awkwardly on her left side, a sharp thud bouncing off her walls. Her immediate reaction was to laugh at her clumsiness, but a sudden, acute pain began to course through her left forearm and an anguished moan escaped her lips instead. She managed to push herself up into a sitting position and she instinctually cradled her left arm in her lap, the action causing the pain to intensify.

"Mother fu--"

At that same moment a loud knock sounded at the door. Casey's concerned voice followed, "Olivia?"

----------------

X-Rays indicated that she had a "distal radius fracture." In basic terms, she had a broken wrist, but she just thought that "distal radius fracture" sounded better, more impressive. She was told that it was a clean break and that it should heal nicely. And it had only taken 3 hours and 17 minutes in Bellevue's ER for all of that to be determined.

The pain in Olivia's wrist had lessened substantially since her arrival at the hospital. It was swollen and very tender, but as long as she limited her movement she could bear the pain.

Olivia sighed, growing tired of waiting for Dr. Pierce to come and wrap her aching limb in a cast. She sat on the bed in the exam room and swung her legs back and forth, like a little kid would do when made to sit still during church. She stared blankly at the stained wall in front of her.

_I hope all those stains aren't body fluid related._ She scrunched her nose slightly in disgust. She'd counted 26 stains on the wall when the rich smell of coffee broke her trance.

"One grande iced mocha, with one pump of vanilla," Casey said, handing Olivia the cup.

Olivia savored the strong aroma for a moment longer and then took a long sip, sighing happily. "You are my hero, Casey."

Casey laughed and took a sip of her own drink. "Arm feeling any better?"

"It's not so bad if I keep it still, but I just wish the doctor would get in here and wrap it up already. I just want to go home."

"Me too," Casey nodded in agreement, dragging a hand through her hair.

"You know, you can go home Case. I know you have to be in court early tomorrow."

"Nah, I'm fine. Besides, I want to be the first person to sign your cast."

Olivia laughed. "You are _not _signing my cast. Nobody is."

"Why not?" Casey pouted playfully.

"Because," Olivia stated simply, like it was an obvious answer.

"You would be a terrible lawyer."

"I know.

"So really…. can I sign your cast?"

"I still can't believe I broke my wrist," Olivia chuckled lightly, dodging Casey's query. "Who breaks their wrist vacuuming, Casey? Who does that?"

Taking a seat in a chair beside the bed, Casey remained silent for a moment before thoughtfully offering, "I once sprained my ankle line-dancing."

This little piece of knowledge had Olivia doubled over with laughter in seconds, her good arm clutching her stomach as she struggled to control her giggles.

"What?" Casey asked in a mock-defensive tone, before dissolving in laughter herself.

"I see your broken wrist isn't putting that much of a damper on your good mood this evening Miss Benson," Dr. Pierce said smiling, as he entered the room.

Dr. Pierce was a wiry old man, with white hair, wire-framed glasses, and delightful bedside manner, learned from decades of experience. Olivia liked him.

Still chuckling slightly Olivia answered, "All things considered, I guess it's not. And please call me Olivia."

"Well, I'm sorry to be a party pooper Olivia, but it's time to get this puppy wrapped up," Dr. Pierce said, carefully taking the limb in his hands for inspection.

Olivia winced at the contact.

"Sorry about that, dear. Now, first things first, what color cast do you want? I've got pink, orange, green…" he trailed off.

"Just a standard white cast will work fine for me Dr. Pierce," Olivia said chuckling to herself.

_Imagine a cop, a detective no less, going to work with a pink cast._

"I'm sorry , but that's all we have, dear. Fresh out of white."

Olivia's eyes widened and her jaw dropped slightly.

"She'll take the pink," Casey smirked.

Dr. Pierce looked at Olivia for approval and she nodded dumbly, before shooting a glare at Casey, who was entirely too amused for her liking.

"Alright. Pink it is then," Dr. Pierce declared.

----------------

Under the harsh fluorescent hospital lights last night, she doesn't remember the pink of her cast reminding her quite so much of the highlighter she threw at Elliot yesterday for pissing her off.

Her entire left forearm is, quite simply, ridiculously neon pink.

And she has absolutely no idea when or how the hell it happened, but somehow the words 'Pretty in Pink' managed to make their way along the underside of her cast, printed in perfect cursive that is unmistakably Casey's.

She can feel the beginnings of a migraine surfacing in her temples and groans, closing her eyes tightly. She's getting later for work by the minute and she still needs to take a show--

A shower.

_Today just keeps getting better and better._ She thinks, wandering into the kitchen to look for something to cover her cast. That's when she finds the note on the kitchen counter.

_-Liv-_

_Hope your arm feels better today. The Chinese food from last night is still in the fridge. I know you told me to take it home with me, but I really don't even like Chinese food that much. I'll call you later and we'll reschedule our movie night!_

_-Casey-_

_P.S. I wrote on your cast. _:P

Olivia snorts and begins her search for something to wrap her cast in.

----------------

Rushing into the precinct, an hour later than she normally would, Olivia's mood is no better than it was earlier in the morning.

She had managed to wrap her cast in a garbage bag, and she'd taken a nice cold shower, but the heat today is unforgiving, and she's already starting to sweat again.

To make matters worse, it seems that the station's air conditioning is not working. If it's even possible, it's hotter in the bullpen than it is outside. A few fans are going, but they aren't offering much relief. A quick glance around the squad room tells her that she's not the only person who is miserably hot. Munch, Fin, and Elliot have all taken off their jackets and rolled up their sleeves in efforts to quell the heat.

Olivia heads immediately for the coffee pot, craving the caffeine.

"You're late," Elliot says, looking up from his paperwork.

"Yeah. I know," Olivia snaps, sitting roughly at her desk before taking a sip of her coffee.

"Rough morning?' He asks, knowingly.

"Yep," she clips, hoping he'll get the hint that she's in no mood to talk.

She's relieved when he just nods in acknowledgement and once again immerses himself in his paperwork. Now she can formulate her plan. She needs to get this damn jacket off. She is burning up, but she doesn't want the guys to see her cast. She's not in the mood for the questions, and she's really not in the mood for the jokes. The only question is, how can she do it? Discreetly, she surveys her surroundings, looking for anything that might inspire a plan. Her eyes fall on the coffee table, and a small smirk flits across her face.

_Perfect._

Now all she has to do is wait for an opportune moment.

----------------

An agonizing 42 minutes later, her opportunity arises. Munch and Fin have just left on a call, leaving her and Elliot as the only people in the bullpen. What she really wants to do right now, is take off all of her clothes and run through the sprinklers like she might have done when she was four, but she'll settle for just taking her jacket off.

As casually as possible, she gets up from her seat and walks over to the coat rack, picking up Munch's abandoned copy of The New York Times from the coffee table on her way. Out of the corner of her eye she glances at Elliot. He remains focused on the report in front of him. She shrugs her right arm out of her jacket, and almost sighs in relief when the balmy air hits her damp skin. Now comes the tricky part. Carefully, she slides her jacket down her left arm, turning her body so her back is to Elliot, thus guarding her cast from his line of sight. She hangs up her jacket and unfolds the newspaper, hiding her upper body behind it's pages as she saunters back to her desk. She resumes her previous position at her desk and puts her bandaged wrist in her lap, away from prying eyes. Her lips curve into a satisfied grin.

_I deserve a perfect 10 for that maneuver. _

"What're you so happy about?" Elliot's amused voice cuts through her thoughts.

"Hmmm? Oh, nothing. Just… funny article," she covers, folding her newspaper up and setting it on the desk.

"Okay."

The silence resumes for a few more moments before she speaks up. "Elliot."

"What?" His eyes shift from his computer screen to focus on her.

"You know what time Cragen is getting back from his meeting?"

"Think he said sometime around noon."

"Oh. Okay, "she tries the hide the hint of disappointment in her voice. She needs to talk to him about what happened last night. Figure out what to do about her cast. Hopefully Cragen will have mercy on her and not put her on desk duty.

"So…" he trails off.

"So?"

"What happened this morning? Why were you in such a bad mood?"

"Oh, I just… I woke up late. Didn't sleep well. You know," she shrugs.

"Nightmares?" He asks, concerned.

"No. No nightmares. Just couldn't sleep." She grins reassuringly.

"Okay," he starts, satisfied with her answer, "because you know you can talk to me if--"

"I know Elliot."

At this, he smiles warmly, eyes sparkling, and she swears she can feel her heart melting. She smiles shyly in response, and they turn back to their work in comfortable silence.

----------------

Don Cragen sighs and leans back in his chair. He knows she' s going to be upset, but it's what's best for now. "I'm putting you on desk duty, Olivia."

Her lips immediately screw into a frown. "For how long?"

"Just until the end of the week. It's more of a precaution than anything else."

She nods and stands from the worn chair in his office, heading for the door.

"Olivia?" His voice halts her movement, and she raises her eyebrow inquisitively. "How did you break it?"

She can't fight the small laugh that bubbles in her throat. "Let's just say I had some trouble while cleaning house," she answers smiling, as her captain's eyebrows raise curiously.

She sits back down at her desk and stares at her pile of paperwork, resigned to the fact that this is all that she's going to be doing until Friday. Her stomach grumbles, reminding her that it's about time she have lunch. She looks at the clock.

_12:37_. _Elliot should be back from the deli by now._

As had become their tradition over the years, Elliot had gone to the deli down the street to get a couple of sandwiches for lunch. A roast beef, hold the tomatoes, on wheat for him, and a turkey breast with everything, on sourdough for her. Her stomach growls again at the thought of food. She hasn't eaten since lunch yesterday. Dinner had long been forgotten last night in the chaotic aftermath of her decision to vacuum. This morning, she'd had no time for breakfast in her rush to get ready.

_God, where is he?_

She hopes he'll bring back one or two of those fresh baked cookies they sell too.

_Mmmmmm… so good._

At this exact moment, she hears him coming down the hall, whistling some upbeat tune. When he comes into view, he's grinning brightly, and he holds the brown paper bag out in front of him. "Food!"

His enthusiasm makes her laugh. When he reaches his desk, she stands and lunges for the bag greedily, snatching it from his hands. She's so damn hungry. Pulling out her sandwich, she hands the bag back before taking a huge bite. "Mmmmmm," she moans out loud, closing her eyes in satisfaction. Suddenly, her shoulders tense, catching her mistake. She stops chewing. _Shit!_ Glancing at Elliot, she's knows it's too late. He's staring at her cast, eyes wide.

"What the hell happened Liv?" A mix of confusion and concern evident in his voice.

"Eh bwroge eht," she says, struggling to speak through a mouthful of sandwich.

"What?"

She swallows. "I said I--"

"Whoa! Wha' happened 'Livia?" Fin asks, he and Munch walking toward her.

_Perfect timing._ She thinks.

"I broke it," she says simply, lifting her cast for them to see, as if they hadn't seen the fluorescent pink bandage the second they walked in.

"Wow Olivia. You don't say?" Munch snarks.

Olivia rolls her eyes. "Shut up Munch."

"Pretty in pink?" Fin asks, amused.

"Don't ask."

"How'd it happen?" Munch cuts in.

_Oh God._ She can feel the pink tint of embarrassment climbing up her neck already. "I fell." _Please let that be a good enough answer._

"How?" Munch prods.

Olivia clears her throat. "I tripped."

"How'd you trip?" Munch continues.

She knows Munch is a detective, but she wishes he didn't have to insist on interrogating her like this. Her three colleagues stare at her, eyes curious, waiting for an answer. Desperately, she tries to think of a reasonable explanation. Anything is better than telling them what actually happened. But her mind is blank.

"Come on Liv. What happened?" Elliot prompts, hands on his hips.

Cheeks flushed, she replies quietly, "I was vacuuming."

Simultaneously, all three men burst out laughing. The sounds of John's snorting laugh, Fin's quiet snicker, and Elliot's throaty chuckle echo in the squad room.

Still laughing slightly, Elliot asks, "How did you manage to do that?"

"I tripped over the cord. Anybody could have done it," she says crossing her arms defensively.

"Fair enough," Elliot shrugs, "but why pink?"

"It was all they had! Are you done asking questions now!" Olivia half-shouts, exasperated.

Munch and Fin go back to their desks, sensing her annoyance and Elliot takes a seat at his own desk. Taking their actions as a 'yes' Olivia sits down to finish her lunch. She's just about to take another bite of her sandwich when something plops onto her desk.

A small paper bag sits in front of her and she reaches for it. She opens it and her lips curve up into a grin. He remembered. She pulls out a double fudge cookie, still warm from the oven, and takes a bite, closing her eyes to savor the sweet taste. _Perfection._ Opening her eyes, she looks at Elliot who has gone back to reading a report. Underneath their desks, she nudges his foot with her own, getting his attention. He looks up. 'Thank you' she mouths silently. Elliot winks and nudges her foot back. They spend the rest of the afternoon immersed in paperwork, their tangled feet hidden by their desks.

----------------

She's just entering her apartment building after a long, hot day of paperwork, when her cell rings. Looking at the screen, she recognizes the number as Casey's.

"I can't believe you wrote on my cast," she answers, in lieu of a greeting.

"Wow. Hello to you too Barbie," Casey says sarcastically.

"Do you know how many pink jokes I've had today?" Olivia groans. "Elliot called me Molly Ringwald all afternoon because of your 'Pretty in Pink' comment."

She can hear Casey laughing on the other end of the line and snorts. "I knew you would find that funny."

"You know me quite well," Casey chuckles. "You aren't really mad at me for signing your cast are you?" She asks, suddenly serious.

"I'm never going to speak to you again Casey."

"What?"

Olivia laughs and gets on the elevator. "I'm not mad. I was going to let you sign it anyway. Thanks again, by the way. For last night."

"Don't worry about it. So, you want to do dinner and a movie Friday night?"

"Sounds good. My place around 8?" There is no answer. "Casey?"

She hears a car horn honking followed by Casey yelling, "Nice, you BASTARD!"

"Casey, you still there?" Olivia asks.

"Yeah. Sorry. Some cabbie just cut me off. But, yeah. Friday night, your place, at 8."

"Great."

"Oh, and Olivia? You don't need to vacuum this time," Casey quips.

"Ha ha. I won't. Bye."

"Bye."

Olivia can hear Casey yelling at another driver before the call disconnects, and she steps out of the elevator laughing.

As she walks to her door, she sees someone standing outside of it, and smiles. This is the best part of the day. She walks over to him, and without hesitation, places her hand on the back of his head, pulling him in for a tender kiss. His hands rest on her waist, pulling her closer as he returns the kiss, nibbling lightly on her lower lip before pulling away grinning. She rests her forehead against his and smiles back. She had been waiting all day to do that. "Hi Elliot"

"Hi," he whispers gruffly.

Olivia gives him a quick peck on the cheek before turning to unlock her door. "You hungry?" She asks, letting them into her apartment.

"Always," he answers cheekily, and she snorts.

"Good. I've got 2 bags of Chinese in the fridge from last nigh that we can heat up." Dropping her purse and keys on the kitchen table, she pulls out the bags of food and puts a few cartons of food in the microwave. She then moves back to the fridge and pulls out two bottles of beer, setting them on the table. Elliot watches her every move. She can feel his eyes on her.

"What?" She asks, walking over where he leans against the back of her couch. His expression is unreadable.

"Why didn't you call me last night?" He asks, looking down at her bandaged wrist.

"Well, you had Lizzie's dance recital last night, and I didn't want you to miss it. Plus, Casey was already here." She wraps her arms around his waist and studies his face.

"You still could have called me." He brushes a lock of auburn hair from her face, and they lock eyes. His blue eyes shine with concern, with love.

"I know. I just…. I didn't want you to worry over nothing," she says hugging him tightly to her. "I'm fine, just a little bit clumsy."

She feels his chest rumble with laughter and she giggles. "Just a little bit," he agrees, and playfully kisses her on the nose. "Come on you big klutz," he says, keeping her tight in his embrace and pulling her onto the couch with him. He presses his lips to hers in a hungry kiss and she moans into his mouth.

"What about the food Elliot?" She asks in between kisses.

"Let's play a little bit first," he says, grinning deviously and waggling his eyebrows.

----------------

Hours later, they are sleeping soundly in her bed, tangled in the cool linen sheets. She lays on her right side, her back to his chest, his arm wrapped protectively around her waist. The early morning sunlight that spills into the room signals the start of another day. Outside, cars are honking, people are yelling, the city is waking up. In the comfort of her bedroom, the only thing that can be heard is the synchronicity of their deep, even breathing. The quiet calm of the bedroom is broken the second the alarm clock goes off, blaring. Olivia shoots up, startled from her sleep, and reaches over Elliot to hit the snooze button. Instead her cast clad arm strikes Elliot right in the eye. Neon pink clashing with tender skin.

"Son of a ----" he bites out groggily, hand flying to his injured eye.

"Oh my God! Elliot! Are you okay? I'm so sorry!" Suddenly awake, Olivia jumps from bed to get an icepack. When she walks back in the room he's sitting up in bed smiling.

"You really are a klutz."

"Shut up and let me see your eye," she says, as she cups his cheek and examines the damage her cast has caused. She can already see a purple ring forming. "This is going to bruise Elliot." She clicks her tongue disapprovingly and holds the ice pack to his eye, one hand still tenderly, cupping his cheek. Elliot watches her watching him, amused.

He leans forward and brushes his lips against hers in a gentle kiss. "I love you."

"I love you too."

----------------

They walk into the station together an hour later, Elliot's eye now a lovely shade of violet, which has ironically, always been one of her favorite colors.

"Whoa, Elliot! What happened to the eye, man?" Fin asks, as Elliot takes a seat at his desk.

For a moment, Elliot and Olivia catch eyes across their desks and share a knowing smile.

"Just had a little accident cleaning house," he says, winking at Olivia.

----------------

_END._


End file.
